


Shimmer

by Anatemnein



Category: Family Law (TV 1999)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21994357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatemnein/pseuds/Anatemnein
Summary: Andres feels his fortitude slipping as he spends more time sleeping with his boss, and wonders if things can really just stay casual.
Relationships: Randi King/Andres Diaz
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Shimmer

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the series 'Family Law' in which Dixie played the hard-as-nails attorney Randi King mentioned in this story. She did have a lover for a better part of the series, Andres Diaz, and the basic elements of their personalities and their backstories is canon, as is the age difference. I've only seen the first seven episodes of the series, so forgive what isn't canon and just enjoy.
> 
> The title comes from a song by the band Fuel, also named 'Shimmer'. Fitting for this pairing.

~~~~

Casual.

Strictly casual.

Those were the exact words Randi said to him when they first started sleeping together. Or, rather, when she'd come onto him as he was in the filing room shoving another recently completed case file behind it's appropriate tab in the top drawer; 'S' for Andrea Sanchez, who'd been a middle aged woman involved in a hit-and-run perpetrated by her ex-husband, a balding sleaze bag that Randi had happily thrown behind bars for the foreseeable future. Andres had popped his eyebrows in amusement at the memory, still remembering Randi's husky, southern drawl as she slid from behind the Plaintiff's table and shot the man a smirk as she said, "Don't drop the soap" before waltzing out the courtroom doors. Andres had followed hurriedly behind her, his wide stride finally allowing him to fall in step beside her as she flashed him a look of surprise that suggested that she had all but forgotten that he was there. As a paralegal, his only purpose for coming along had been to translate for their client (whose English was conversational, but a bit rough), and to watch Randi work her magic. In reality, Andres wasn't really sure what he wanted to do beyond paralegal work, but he was taking night courses at the local law school and Randi thought a bit of shadowing in the courtroom might help him figure things out.

The file had just dropped from his hands into place as his other hand slid the drawer closed when he heard the door close behind him and turned around, looking directly into Randi's grey, penetrating eyes as she studied him with an indiscernible expression and slid in front of the table that sat in the center of the room. 

"So, you like your little sojourn into court the other day?" she asked coolly, still appraising him in that curious way she tended to regard anyone that stood in front of her.

Andres had shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets and said, "Sure. ...I'm not sure it helped me make up my mind, but it was a learning experience."

Randi had glanced down, pursing her lips before looking back up at him and saying, "Well you know, Andres, you're gonna have to figure out what it is you want to do in life. You're too smart and too capable to sit behind a desk and file my papers forever."

"I've got a couple of years" he'd shot back, cocking his head. They'd already established a rhythm since he started working for her a few months ago, which usually involved her giving him some sort of advice (sometimes unwelcome) and him firing off a retort that let her know that he was plenty capable of making a decision for himself in spite of his age (25).

"Those years fly by before you know it" she said, turning her head away from him and glancing out the window briefly.

"I'll keep an eye out for them" he said confidently, rocking on his heels. 

She looked back at him, inhaling slowly and pausing again before she saying, "Well, if you need any other help...maybe we could talk over dinner sometime."

Andres was just about to fire off another smart remark--he was pretty sure his heavy Chilean accent helped him get away with murder where that was concerned--when he stopped and looked at her curiously, his brain suddenly grasping what it was she was implying. He stared blankly at her for a moment before shrugging as casually as he could and saying, "Like tonight?"

A smirk teased the corners of her mouth as she eyed him carefully and said, "Seven o'clock, at Il Voglio, wear something nicer than what you're wearing now", turning on her heels abruptly and leaving. 

That night he'd gone home and rifled through his closet in a hurry, eventually settling on a dark silk shirt and dress slacks with a blazer over top before pulling his clean--but modest--Honda into the restaurant parking lot and stepping inside, ignoring the stare he received from the busboy that suggested he didn't belong here as he told him he was meeting a Randi King for dinner, and was she here yet.

The busboy had sucked in his cheeks in surprise, knowing quite well who Randi was, and turned silently, grabbing a menu and motioning for Andres to follow him through the dimly lit restaurant and over to a booth situated in a dark corner that currently housed only an unaffected looking Randi, who'd glanced up from her compact mirror at him and only said, "Finally" as he slid into his seat.

"No one told you to get here early--and for the record, I am by 10 minutes" he shot back, flipping open the drink menu which she promptly reached across the table and shut as she said, "A mimosa for me, a whiskey on the rocks for you. I'm single, not stupid, and I know what men like."

As it turns out, she was more than right, as the whiskey had made a great palate cleanser before the mussels and spaghetti he eventually decided on, and the lace underwear and dark heels had made another perfect match, which she revealed to him in the dim light of his bedroom some time after dinner--time had gotten away from him the moment she suggested they go to his place, and even more so when she drew her hand up his leg--and it was at this exact moment that she had uttered those words that now volleyed around in his brain. 

"Casual, Andres, strictly casual. I mean it. No falling in love, no asking me to stay the night, no bringing your emotions or puppy dog eyes into the workplace. We won't get fired for having a personal relationship in the office, but I see no need to draw everyone else into the fold."

"I can handle myself, Randi, I'm a big boy."

At this, she'd shot a curious glance down at his trousers, which were still sitting on his waist, and said breathlessly, "We'll see."

As it turns out, he had been more than right about that fact, which she'd all but confirmed to him as he rocked his hips against her gently as she moaned loudly into his pillows. After, she'd laid beside him for a few moments before standing up and getting dressed, throwing him a cool glance as she sauntered out of the bedroom and said, "See you tomorrow."

Andres knew full well that Randi was, for lack of a better term, 'damaged goods', but she had refused to tell him much more about herself over dinner than what he'd been able to pick up from others in the office. (He'd asked around).

He knew that she had a grown daughter--somewhere around his age given that Randi was upwards of fifty-five, as he guessed, but this was another fact which would remain elusive--and that she and her daughter were not on speaking terms. On this, Randi hadn't exactly elaborated, but stated that her daughter was still angry over what happened to her father. The man in question had been murdered by Randi--stabbed in his kitchen--after years of subjecting her to horrific beatings with a baseball bat (and, Andres was sure, other things), and Randi had snapped one day, taking advantage of him when he swung at her and missed by stabbing him to death. For this, Randi had spent some time in jail (the fault of a crap attorney) and her daughter had distanced herself from her mother. This point was a shock to Andres, and he told Randi as much before she said, "Well, let's just say the worst of it I kept from my daughter. She knew Daddy was heavy-handed, but he never was with her, and I was great at making up excuses for any bruises she might've glimpsed. Her father knew how to hit me so that he never left a mark anywhere visible, and I knew how to hide what I was feeling. I am, after all, an attorney."

"I can't believe you could hide something like that" he said inadvertently, in disbelief. His father had never laid a hand on his mother--or anyone for that matter--but Andres refused to believe that if he did, he wouldn't know about it.

"Believe it," she said simply, twirling her fork through her pasta, "millions of women hide worse from those they love everyday. Once it becomes a way of life, you can hide anything."

"So when you told her...?"

Randi had inhaled slowly and said, "She did not believe it. Who could blame her, she never saw it."

Andres was gobsmacked, but Randi had promptly closed the topic by twirling her fork through her pasta again and inquiring about his family without making eye contact. He'd rattled off a few uninteresting facts--they lived in Chile, still married, everyone close to each other--and Randi had nodded along, glancing curiously at him every now and again in between bites. Andres had opened his mouth, wanting to ask her more, when he caught the stern, cold look in her eyes and thought the better of it, deciding instead to ask her if she was enjoying herself (she was.)

Still, as he lay in his apartment that night, the scent of her perfume still lingering on his bedsheets, he'd been simultaneously amazed and troubled by her ability to compartmentalize her life. After she left prison, she'd simply started practicing law--using the degree she earned while incarcerated--and shut off any emotional connection to the past whatsoever. Even over dinner, when she talked about the abuse (though not in great detail), she had calmly sipped her wine and leaned back in her chair, that cold, detached look drawing over her face as she told him about her husband's penchant for bruising her with his bat. 

"Great aim, he had great aim. Was a player in college, he could've gone pro" she'd said emotionlessly as Andres stared at her blankly. It wasn't that he hadn't heard about this from the others, but watching her recite the facts as though she was reading a weather report was more disturbing than he had envisioned it would be. 

Still, he had dropped the matter when she wanted it and tried to keep the rest of their conversation light, surprising himself by making her laugh, something that--in the coming months--he would notice she did not do frequently. 

She had eyed his apartment approvingly--he thanked his mother for raising a neat freak with an eye for aesthetics--as he watched her draw her eyes around the apartment at the dark decor and wood furnishings while he grabbed some wine from the kitchen and poured both of them a glass. She accepted this happily, and drank casually beside him on his sofa before making the first move, kissing him intensely and pulling back to gauge his reaction, at which point Andres had kissed her even more enticingly, biting her lip and watching as he pulled her to her feet and led her toward his bedroom. When she left, he'd lay there in the cool silence of his bedroom, his brain struggling to take the two halves of her--the abused, emotionally damaged half, and the steely, successful attorney half--and make a whole. Eventually, he nodded off to sleep, realizing that it was not necessary to do so, given that they had agreed to keep things casual.

He hadn't been worried about that at the time, but as the weeks went by and he got to know her a little better--not really in a deeper, more significant way, because she always blocked him--the line between sex and emotion started blurring bit by bit in his head at odd moments: as he watched her in the kitchen at work, stirring her coffee (which he learned she liked with a bit of creamer); as she jotted notes into case files and rattled off instructions to him simultaneously (at which time he noticed the brand name of her favorite pen and made sure to keep them in stock); or when she took a bath at his apartment for the first time (alone, and with the door closed), and he heard her husky, southern voice carry into his bedroom as she softly sang a song he did not recognize while she bathed. It was during this latter moment that she would give him another useful clue to her personality as she'd swung the door open and trotted out of the bathroom with a robe on, eyeing herself in the mirror and saying, "That lavender soap is nice." He'd made sure to keep it in stock since then, a fresh bar always in the tub, two stashed under the sink.

And now, as he turned toward her, watching her lying naked beside him under the sheet as she twirled her hair, he felt the line blur into nonexistence as she looked over at him and smiled, eyeing him for a moment before saying softly, "What, darlin'?" (This new nickname she'd bestowed upon him weeks before when, after a long day, he had surprised her by turning up in the doorway of her office with dinner and wine without her having even so much as suggested he do so. She'd been deeply grateful, and by that point fairly sure that he was mature enough to keep things casual between them, and hadn't thought much about what she'd said.)

Andres stared at her for a moment before smiling, wondering how to tell his mother that he was falling in love (or something of that nature, because, as he spent more time with Randi, he was less and less sure he'd ever even been in love) with a woman near her age, and shaking his head, reaching a hand over toward her to stroke her hair playfully as he said, "Nothing, baby."

She giggled, flashing him a curious look, before shrugging and getting out of bed, slowly dressing herself in the dim light of his bedroom as the moon shone in through the large window to the left of his bed. He raised himself up on his elbow, saying as casually as possible, "You know, you could stay the night, it's pretty late--"

He stopped short when he saw the look on her face, realizing he had to make the offer sound as casual as possible, and continued with, "--I mean, we have work tomorrow, you live across town..."

"I can drive at night Andres, see you later" she said simply, hesitating before kissing her hand and stroking the same hand along his cheek before turning and leaving the apartment. He'd remained in that position for a few more seconds after the door shut before sighing deeply and laying back down, running a hand through his thick dark hair then jumping to his feet and walking quickly to the living room window that overlooked the parking lot, hoping to catch a glimpse of her car as she drove off. 

He watched as her dark, expensive convertible disappeared into the night, leaning his head against the window, where he would spend the better part of an hour trying to come up with better excuses to get her to spend the night, and even more hours after that in his bedroom, mulling over that same thing, as well as how to best deepen their relationship without her noticing. He eventually drifted off to sleep and awoke to the sound of his alarm and the sun rising in the distance, knowing that he hadn't come up with any reasons at all, biting his lip in frustration as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the floor number to the office an hour and a half later. 

She was already there and in the process of hanging up the phone when he set a cup of coffee on her desk as she looked up at him and said, "Andres?"

"Yes, Randi?" he replied, as professionally as he could.

"Casual...remember Andres? No feelings, and no spending the night."

He hovered over her desk for a moment, inhaling slowly and swallowing deeply before saying, "...Right. Right! Just casual" as evenly as he could, nodding at her and sauntering off in the direction of his desk. He struggled as he sat down, trying to find that line between sex and emotion that he knew had already disappeared a long time ago as he looked blankly down at the work on his desk, breathing in deeply before picking up his pen and getting to the tasks at hand. An hour later he was digging through his desk drawer when he came upon the menu for Il Voglio, and decided to offer that he order in lunch since her afternoon was booked full. 

"Sure" she said gamely as she threw on her coat and headed out of the office to make a run to the magistrates office and get some things for their newest case. He was already on the phone as the elevator doors were closing, ordering her favorite dish as he reached for his wallet so he could run to the bakery across the street and get a small danish for them to share (another thing she liked). He thought maybe the sight of her favorite foods would be enough to loosen her up (or at least butter her up so he could make the first move) when the guy behind the counter grabbed the cash from his hand and started chatting as he was counting out Andres' change.

"For a girl?"

"Huh?"

"I said, 'for a girl?'" the guy asked, motioning his thick, hairy arm at the danish. "A guy like you, foreign, good looking, it's gotta be. I keep telling my nephew to get himself one of those. That bastard has his eyes set on some woman who's too messed up. Damaged goods, ya know? Fuckin' pointless. Chase a piece of ass that's easy, that's what I say."

Andres stared wordlessly at him as the guy reached back across the counter and handed him his change. "Casual. That's how you gotta keep it. Casual, then you can get any piece of ass you want while you still got it. Not like my nephew, gettin' fuckin' serious at his age. Stupid bastard."

Andres rolled his eyes and shoved his wallet back in his pocket before grabbing the danish and rushing back to the office. The food arrived about thirty minutes later as Randi was walking through the door, turning her head briefly to ask, "Any messages?"

"None" he said, following her to her office, food in tow. She looked down satisfyingly, smiling at him as she sat and grabbed a fork, inhaling as the scent of garlic and basil wafted through the air. 

"You know," she said softly, smiling at him as she looked up through her lashes before taking a bite, "someday you'll feed a nice meal like this to the woman you love."

Andres froze, hesitating before raising his head to look at her and seeing that she was already distracted, chewing happily as she pulled a piece of the danish off and set it on a napkin beside her plate for later. He drew in a slow breath, pressing his lips together before simply saying, "Yep", taking his food and turning on his heels. 

"Eating at your desk?" she asked just as he reached the door (typically, he ate with her).

He turned, shrugging coolly before he said, "I got work to do" closing the door behind him as he left. 

He thought about the guy at the bakery behind the counter as he sat down. In that moment, Andres had wanted to knock his teeth out, but as he stared blankly at his computer screen he thought maybe he had a point. Maybe he should just shrug it off, get any piece of ass while he was still young and capable and enjoy his relationship with Randi for the frequent, intense sex she provided him. He was about to decide on just that when he remembered one thing: the line.

The line was gone.

The line between sex and emotion that had long since vaporized.

He could get any piece of ass.

But he couldn't draw the line again. 


End file.
